I wake up near dawn and find my mind churning too fast to fall back asleep. I can’t have been resting for more than a few hours, but now that I’m up, I’ll have to make do. Perhaps I’ll be able to catch up tomorrow night.

  I grab some coffee from the kitchen, where a handful of cooks are already prepping ingredients for breakfast, then I make my way up to one of the palace’s highest balconies. Settling on a ledge, I tuck my legs up and clutch the warm mug close to my chest. The coffee’s rich steam washes over my face as I watch the clouds of the Drifting Isles swirl silently around our city.

  The quiet is a welcome relief. Not just around me, but inside my head as well. Ollie and Mirzayael are still asleep, and I let them be. These moments of private peace are few and far between.

  I absently sip at my drink, relishing the warmth as it spreads down my chest, as I bring up my every growing To-Do list that I’ve been keeping in Echo’s interface. Yesterday’s guests have somewhat disrupted this week’s schedule. But when have things ever gone according to plan?

  I intended to set some time aside this week to help with designing an education curriculum for Ollie and the other Fyrethians kids. They didn’t have any formal education system in the past, since most of the Fyrethian’s time was dedicated to survival, but with the Fortress flourishing, parents and children alike are finding more free time on their hands. I can help design some math and science curriculums, but I’ll need help for anything language, history, geography, and magic related. Probably we’ll need to find people outside the Fortress to help with several of these. Of course, these days, there is not a lack of eager visitors and volunteers.

  In fact, we’ve already had a handful of merchants ask to open shops in the city. We certainly have enough empty buildings in the lower tiers to accommodate them, though we do want to be discerning with who we allow to move into and represent the Fortress. Right now we’ve approved a few dozen applications, half of them taverns and food vendors, which delight Fyrethians and visitors alike.

  I glance over the list of unreviewed applications I copied into Echo’s interface and grimace at the number, deciding that can be a task for post-breakfast Fyre.

  And then there’s the artificing project I’ve been stalled on for quite some time now. I bring up the mental design, turning the 3D model of a bracer around in my mind’s eye. The Dungeon Core could synthesize it for me at a moment’s notice, but I keep fretting over the details, trying to get everything just right. There’s still something missing, I just don’t know what. I sigh into my mug, summoning a cloud of fog that washes over my face.

  I’m still thinking as the cool air stirs around me and the flap of harpy wings cut through the quiet morning. I glance up as Dizzi lands on the platform next to me.

  “Morning, Chief.” Her eyes are bright with eagerness; her smile makes some of the weight of the last twenty-four hours feel lighter. “Mind if I join you?”

  I gesture to the spot next to me. “Please do.”

  Dizzi lets out a content sigh as she folds her wings back and plops down at my side. “Sure is some sight, huh?”

  “It’s unlike anything I ever imagined,” I say, watching an island of stone float gently through the air, cutting a line in the cloudy wall of the Isles.

  “Me, too.” Dizzi cranes her head toward the distant patch of purple sky. A handful of stars still hold out against the sunrise. “Never thought I would get to live in a city like this. And meet all the people I’ve gotten to meet! Every day is something new.”

  I smile faintly to myself. Isn’t that the truth?

  “Like that Kanin guy,” Dizzi says. “Oh, um, sorry, Kay. A soul in a bottle? I never knew that was something magic could even do!”

  I take another sip of my drink as I regard her. “What do you think of him so far?”

  “I mean, what’s not to think about?” she says. “I have to study all that spellwork on his glass. And of course, his soul. How does that even work? I mean, I know he’s like you, so maybe that magic System you guys have access to is helping—or maybe I just don’t know enough about null arcana yet. That hasn’t shown up in textbooks as much as most other fields of magic. But that’s not something a bit of research can’t fix!”

  I chuckle at her enthusiasm and hold out a hand. Dizzi’s eyes light up in understanding, and she quickly takes it.

  [Psionic Touch activated.]

  “Is now when you tell me everything you really know about him?” she asks the moment the spell is in effect.

  “Is that why you came all the way up here?” I ask, amused.

  “Not only,” she objects.

  I grin. The girl’s curiosity is going to get herself in trouble one of these days.

  I give her the abbreviated version of the previous day’s excitement, including Shirasil’s visit. Dizzi listens with rapt—and increasingly excited—attention.

  “So you want me to work with him on that spell circle, right?” she asks.

  I raise an amused eyebrow. “Straight to the point, I see.”

  “Come on,” she says. “He needs to find a way to get storm arcana to power his spell, and I happen to be the best artificer you got—and a user of storm arcana. Who else could do it?”

  “You’ve got me there,” I admit with a chuckle. “I wasn’t going to ask you to work with him on his trans-dimensional spell, for the record. It sounds exceptionally dangerous.”

  Dizzi waits a beat. “But you told me about it so I could make my own choice on the matter,” she surmises. “Well, I’ve decided. I want to do it! Sounds fun.”

  I snort. “Don’t forget dangerous.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I said.” She grins. “Fun.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Perhaps her curiosity will get her in trouble sooner than I thought. “I’ll set up an opportunity for the two of you to meet and speak about this covertly,” I tell her. “For now, assume that anything said in front of Aquenno is also being said in front of Blair.”

  “Copy that,” Dizzi says. “You know me. The master of discretion!”

  [Psionic Touch ended.]

  I let go of her hand to shake my head in amusement. “Don’t make me regret this.”

  “Oh, come on,” Dizzi says. “When have I ever done anything you’ve regretted?”

  I raise an eyebrow at her. “Are you asking for a list?”

  Dizzi springs to her feet, her wings flapping open as a wind lifts her into the air. “What’s that? I can’t hear you over how flawless my experiments are!”

  I laugh. “Dizzi—”

  “Yeah? I’m the best artificer you’ve ever met? That’s too kind, Fyre! Too kind!” Dizzi salutes me, laughing as she flips backward and loops out of sight.

  I’m left grinning to myself as I nurse the last of my coffee. If nothing else, she knows how to lift my spirits.

  After everyone assembles for breakfast, I continue my tour of the city. We already visited all the important locations the day before, but I find physical activities to be a good way to connect with new acquaintances—and to loosen lips. And as Aquenno continues to shadow Kanin, I’m hoping this will give me the opportunity to learn a bit more about the champion, and Blair by proxy.

  However, despite my attempts to pull Aquenno into conversations, the nereid appears to be attempting to remain aloof and detached. I’ll find a way around his guard someway or another.

  Zyneth and Kanin, at least, appear to be in better moods. I’d worried about the way they had departed the night before, but whatever had been bothering Zyneth doesn’t seem to be weighing on him now. Kanin, for his part, also appears upbeat. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the previous interaction with Shirasil hadn’t bothered him at all. In fact, I’d still like to speak with him about the visit, but Aquenno’s close presence doesn’t make it easy.

  It isn’t until after lunch, when Mirzayael is showing our guests around the barracks, that an opportunity presents itself.

  “How about a sparring match?” Kanin abruptly suggests. “It would be nice to get some practice in with people and fighting styles I’m unfamiliar with.”

  I can sense Mirzayael’s interest is immediately piqued. She’s been itching for a way to evaluate the risk our guests pose. “A wonderful suggestion.”

  Zyneth appears far less enthusiastic, glancing at Kanin with obvious skepticism. “Are you sure?”

  “Why not? It will let Ink blow off some steam. Besides,” Kanin says, gesturing to Aquenno. “You want evidence that I won’t lose control of my remnant, right?”

  Aquenno watches Kanin with a neutral look. “It is not for me to decide if you are a threat or not; my lord is the only one who can make that call.” The nereid hesitates. “However, it would be useful to report any findings back to Lord Blair.”

  “Hm,” Mirzayael thinks to me, faintly impressed. “I don’t know what he’s up to, but that was sly.”

  “What, Kanin?” I reply, confused.

  Mirzayael watches him as the glass man begins to remove his jacket. “I’m not sure what he’s playing at, but he wanted the champion’s attention, and he got it.”

  I watch Kanin skeptically. Is she right? It seemed like a pretty innocent request to me. What does he think he can achieve out of a sparring match?

  Kanin folds up his jacket and kicks off his boots, leaving his glass and shadow form uncovered. It looks surprisingly thin without the clothes on—and even less human. The glass arms and legs are so narrow, they appear more like bones than limbs, and the torso is broken up into smaller sections that are clearly designed to approximate the function of a human chest and spine rather than replicating the look of one.

  And then there’s the void; most of it has pooled on the ground about his feet, but there’s still more layered like skin over the glass, sometimes vanishing beneath the sunlight, while other times appearing darker than any natural shadow. It’s hard to describe; like trying to map ripples on a pond, ever changing, at any moment catching the light or shying from it in different ways. It’s rather unsettling, if I’m being honest.

  I’m beginning to suspect why Kanin wears clothes in the first place.

  “Who’s up first?” he calls.

  Mirzayael steps forward. “I would be interested in assessing your capabilities as well.”

  Kanin tips his head at her. “Works for me. Here,” he says, surprising me as he holds his jacket out. “Mind holding this for the match? Don’t want anything to get damaged.”

  I’m a bit baffled as to why he’s giving me his coat rather than Zyneth—or, for that matter, why he isn’t just leaving it with his boots and pants. But I’m not about to snub his request.

  “Of course.” I take the jacket from him—which is heavier than I was expecting—and shift the bundle in my arms. As I do, I feel an unexpected bump within the fabric. I pause, then covertly slip a hand between the folds until I touch something round and cool.

  My heart skips a beat when I realize what fragile object he’s left for me to take care of; it’s Kanin’s core.

  “You were right,” I tell Mirzayael, trying to keep an impassive expression on my face as I watch Kanin head toward the nearest sparring ring. “He did have something up his sleeve. Keep Aquenno’s attention away from me, will you?”

  “That’s the plan,” Mirzayael says.

  I activate Psionic Touch.

  “Good idea,” I say to Kanin. “I could also bring Mirzayael into this conversation, though that might be a bit distracting while you spar.”

  Ink’s mind surfaces along with Kanin’s, and it feels mildly annoyed by my presence. It doesn’t seem aggressive, however; if anything, just a bit protective of Kanin, unused to anyone else being in their head.

  “I was sort of hoping I would be against someone who wouldn’t require my full attention,” Kanin jokes. “We can chat after the match. Maybe I can get Zyneth to spar with someone instead. It should be enough of a distraction for Aquenno.”

  “We have time,” I agree, glancing toward the champion. As Kanin had hoped, Aquenno’s attention is locked on the homunculus body. Kanin’s mind distances itself from me as his attention shifts to Mirzayael. Ink is also focused on the impending fight, but I can feel a piece of the remnant’s mind still keeping a wary eye on me.

  “Anything I should know?” Mirzayael calls as she faces Kanin in the ring. “I do not wish to accidentally kill you.”

  He taps his chest. “As long as you don’t shatter my core, I’ll be fine. Anything else is fair game; feel free to use as much force as you like.”

  He’s bluffing, of course, given his core is actually in my hand, but from where we’re standing, I wouldn’t have been able to tell his chest cavity was empty even if I were looking for it.

  “Likewise, you do not need to hold back against me.” Mirzayael grins, drawing her spear. “I’m starting to like you.”

  “Careful, now,” I think privately to Mirzayael. “Let’s not break our guests on their second day in the city.”

  Mirzayael’s mind is tinged with amusement. “I’ll go easy on him.”

  And yet, I don’t expect she will.

  “What’s the win condition?” Kanin asks.

  Mirzayael points her speartip toward the ring carved into the ground around them. “First to set foot outside the ring loses.”

  He tips his head. “If a limb passes over the ring, does that count? Or do you have to touch the ground?”

  “Let’s say touch the ground,” Mirzayael replies. “I am unsure if I should classify your glass and void as weapons or limbs, so for fairness, anything belonging to either of us counts. If you knock my spear outside the ring and it strikes the ground, that will also count.”

  “Works for me,” Kanin says. “Ready?”

  Mirzayael crouches into an offensive stance. Kanin doesn’t move; without a need to breathe, or a face to emote, his glass is so unnervingly still that he almost looks like a statue. The only giveaway is his void, which begins to ripple in eager anticipation, the emotion mirrored in Kanin and Ink’s minds.

  After a moment of silence, Mirzayael calls, “Go!”

  At once, both of them blur into motion.

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